


We Who Guard

by Eponin



Category: The Sentinel
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-01-23
Updated: 2010-01-23
Packaged: 2017-10-06 15:09:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,670
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/54994
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Eponin/pseuds/Eponin
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Is there life after death?</p>
            </blockquote>





	We Who Guard

**Author's Note:**

> Yes, this is a death story, sort of. It has nothing to do with Sentinel 2, Part 2. I don't usually do these stories. In fact, I don't usually even READ these stories, but I had this weird dream and for some reason the muse just wouldn't get out of my head until I'd written this story. Its a little unusual in that the story is told from the viewpoint of the deceased, and its not completely depressing. I hope.

I'd say that's where it all ended; in a deserted parking lot on the west side of town, but it didn't end. Not really.

I think Simon took it the hardest. Its not to say the others didn't feel it too, because they did, but Simon knew. He knew us; knew all our secrets, that we were partners in every sense of the word, and all the Sentinel stuff. And he stayed our closest friend through all of it.

So when Jim died, it hit Simon hard. And, of course, his first thoughts were for me, because I had been there, right next to Jim, when that lucky (or not-so-lucky) bullet made it past the slim barrier of Jim's classic blue and white. I was there, kneeling in the gravel parking lot, in the pouring rain, holding my partner, my lover, my Sentinel, as he bled his life out onto the dirt.

I never even got to call for back-up, things happened so fast. And Jim just looked up at me, his head cradled in my lap, and said he'd wait for me. I knew then, like I'd always known, that it wouldn't be long before I joined him. It couldn't be any other way.

I also realized, just after he closed his eyes and slipped away, that there were things I had to take care of first. And there was Simon.

I realize there were other guys in Major Crimes that we were close to, that were close to us; Rafe, Brown, Joel, Megan; but for the most part, none of them knew. Even after the dissertation fiasco and three years as a detective and Jim's full-time partner, most of them still didn't get it.

Joel may have gotten the Sentinel deal, but if he did, he chose to ignore it, or at least not say anything about it. Megan knew, and did everything she could to help us. Rafe and Brown, they were just clueless. Or maybe they just hid what they knew better than we knew how to look. But none of them, not even Simon, knew just how deep the bond between Jim and I ran.

I was still sitting there in the rain when Simon got there. Apparently someone had heard the gunshots and called it in.

I sound awfully calm about this now, don't I? Don't worry, I was anything but calm then. I knew death couldn't break our bond, but I didn't want our time in this lifetime to have ended so soon. We'd only had three years. Well, we had seven if you count the four before the dissertation, but we weren't fully bonded then.

I remember looking up at Simon, my tears mingling with the rain on my cheeks, and feeling like I was making the sky cry. Jim was gone. Violently. And, oh, it hurt.

Simon practically collapsed next to me. He laid his hand on Jim's chest for a long moment, as if checking for motion, for anything, then he just rested his head on my shoulder and cried.

It is something to say that I've known this man as my friend; to know that he cried for us. Because that's what he did. I knew as surely as if I'd read his thoughts. Simon wasn't crying for Jim, he was crying for what I'd lost, and for what he'd lost. That awed me. And by the silence of the officers around us who had also responded to the call, they felt the same.

\+ + +

I'd like to say the funeral was a small, quiet affair, like Jim would have wanted, but in truth, it was rather large. Jim had been one of the best cops in Cascade, and all his brothers were there. Amazingly enough, his father and brother were there too.

I held together pretty well. In truth, I think Simon and the rest of the gang were more of a mess than I was. In the days leading up to the funeral, they all took turns staying in the loft with me. I think they were afraid I'd do something stupid.

I didn't have the heart to tell them it wasn't necessary; nature would take care of that all on its own.

\+ + +

It was Simon who came to the loft and found my body. I think the most painful thing I've ever had to watch was Simon, breaking down in the middle of our living room. He just knelt on the floor and cried. For once, I actually wished I could give him a hug.

He finally pulled himself together enough to get up and call for an ambulance. Then he came back upstairs to sit with me. Actually, I think he came upstairs to yell at me, but he got distracted. He found the notes I'd left for him and the others.

Megan and Simon's were the largest. We figured they deserved a full explanation after all we'd put them through for the last several years. Yes, you heard right. I said we. It may have only been my handwriting on those letters, but I definitely didn't write them alone. Mine was not the only voice present on those pages.

It was something Jim and I had learned after the dissertation; when we finally truly bonded as Sentinel and Guide, and as lovers. When we bonded, we were linked together. Permanently. When one dies, the other soon follows. Usually within the hour. One half of a bonded Sentinel and Guide pair cannot live without the other. I don't know if it was naturally set up as a fail-safe, so that one partner wouldn't go insane, because truly, we could not, cannot, live without the other. I can't think about that anthropologically, or scientifically, though. I'm too close to it. Jim laughs every time my mind wanders in that direction. He says its proof that death hasn't changed me at all. When it comes down to basics, Jim is the other half of my soul, and I couldn't live without that. Who would want to?

The only reason I lasted the four days I did, was because I had too many things in our lives to get in order. And I couldn't leave without giving Simon and Megan an explanation as to why we'd both gone, when only Jim had been injured.

I tried to explain all that to Simon and Megan, though I'm not sure how well I succeeded. How do you explain to your friends that you chose to be bound so strongly to another person that you would die when they did? I hope they understood. I don't want them all thinking I did myself in, because nothing could be further from the truth. I just, both physically and emotionally, couldn't live without Jim.

\+ + +

I went to my own funeral. It's really weird, being able to say that, even if no one could see me there. Jim just laughed and told me he'd felt the same, only he hadn't had anyone to keep him company while he watched. Me, I had a Sentinel blanket attached to my back. Not that I minded. I think Jim was worried that I'd freak, watching them bury me, but I was too worried about everyone else there who was still living to be concerned about myself. Besides, watching a funeral from the perspective of the deceased is a really interesting exercise in cultural anthropology. The rituals people go through are fascinating. Ummm... sorry about that. Jim's laughing at me again. I get distracted easily.

It was hard, watching Naomi, because I knew that as much as she tried, she wouldn't be able to understand this. She could never understand being that attached, that dependent, on another person. Simon and the others had it rough, I knew, but they at least had each other, and Simon had Daryl. Naomi, she didn't really have anybody. That... that just hurt. Jim came up and hugged me then. I think he knew exactly what I was feeling, like he always does, and I was suddenly more grateful than I can say that he was there for me.

\+ + +

Simon came back to the loft, alone, after it was all over. He had escorted Naomi to the airport already. I think she said something about going to Nepal or Tibet to meditate and process for awhile. I hope she finds some understanding and that peace she's been searching for. Maybe I'll drop in to check on her every once in awhile, but overall, I think we're staying in Cascade. Its our city, and its people are our tribe.

I watched Simon wander over to the mantle and pick up the panther and wolf fetishes that rested there. We'd bought them on one of our vacations in Peru a year or two ago. They came as a matched set, the panther and wolf with sapphire eyes, and as soon as we saw them, we knew we had to have them. We brought them home and they'd been there, on the mantle, watching over us ever since; like true replicas of our spirit guides. Simon dwarfed them in his hand and muttered something I couldn't make out. Jim just smiled and told me Simon had asked our permission to take them. Something to remember us by, he said. I just smiled. They couldn't be in better hands.

\+ + +

The year after our deaths passed slowly. We popped into the bullpen of Major Crimes regularly, where we had fun occasionally staring over everyone's shoulders and making snarky comments. It was just something we had to do. The gang had become our family, and even now we couldn't desert them. We had taken on a responsibility as Sentinel and Guide to guard our tribe, and that was something we didn't feel comfortable relinquishing, even though physically we couldn't be seen by any members of that tribe.

We tried to help however we were able. And those little tickles of intuition that Simon swears have my voice? Well, they do.


End file.
